Aggreive
by altertalian-doodle
Summary: The Page is dead, and the entirety of Space grieves. The Seer has lost Hope, and sees every timeline end in Doom. The Knight has gone silent, and yet the Sylph seeks to heal Time. (Hetastuck, rusame, shenanigans)
1. Doom

When you try to write, but all you are motivated to is Hetastuck angst that simply makes you more dead inside

* * *

The Seer hasn't left his room for six days. You leave him food outside his door, but he is either unwilling or unable to talk.

Six days ago the Page died. By terms of conditional immortality, death only applies if it is Heroic or Just. In this case, Heroic. He always joked about being a hero, even after the game took a darker turn. And though the Hero of Space is gone, and you can no longer breed a new universe, you still have hope of surviving.

But the Seer of Doom has grieved for what you think is much too long. He is an important part of the team, foretelling possibility of death and destruction.

⇒ Be the Seer

You are now the Seer of Doom, and you feel like this is a ridiculously long time to grieve. But the Page of Space wasn't simply a member of the team. He was your matesprit, and before that your best friend. With him gone, a bit of Void has taken residence in your chest. Endlessly heavy and completely empty.

You stay in your Respiteblock, what normal people would call a room, . You don't want to fall asleep, and be haunted by more dreams of your soon to be failed session, of becoming part of the SGLOBE coding and taking your ranks among the Ancients. You dreamed of the destruction of the Dream Bubbles, where his now dead self resides. The deaths of your teammates, of the recently joined Alpha session.

So you result to staring at the opposite wall in near silence, occasionally punctuated by either Katya or Yao bringing food, sometimes emotional support. You don't really touch the food, and shoo away their attempts to comfort you. You don't need comforting, you're just waiting for this session to fail.

Jegus fuck you miss him. You miss being greeted by the sky blue text when you talk to him on Hetachum, the childish excitement when you got him Ryuko Isogai's jacket five years ago. Five years ago when he pestered you into playing SGLOBE, when the game dropped you in the middle of the Land of Bone and Flowers, where you acted as medic for consorts dying from plague.

You guided him on his Land of Night and Eagles, as it was said that the journey of a Page was not easy. Tavros Nitram never ascended, his quest was harsh and bitter. You saw him halfway, and he completed the rest of it himself, while you went Grimdark on the Battlefield.

He was the one who brought you back. Every step of your gameplay had him by your side, you led him to ascension hand in hand. And though you aren't really one for being all romantic, you kind of really loved him.

Your internal monologue is interrupted by a knock on the door.

YAO: ivan, we need to talk.

You don't need to talk.

YAO: i'm serious, we gotta find someway to fix this session.

The session is fucked.

YAO: i'm assuming you're either temporarily dead or not talking.

He opens the door and enters, quite rudely if you say so yourself.

YAO: you know, i'm kind of glad the game doesn't let food rot, but it still disturbs me to see all that untouched food in the open.

YAO: jesus, you're a total train wreck. you really loved alfred, did you?

⇒ Sylph: Try to be sociable

You are about 2598% done with Ivan's shit now. But that figure is statistically incorrect, so you'll have to settle with 100. Sure, his boyfriend died. Yes, you miss him too but god Ivan's a total wreck and that isn't good if you're planning on redirecting the Alpha timeline. You need some Seery consultation and the Seer is basically mute.

YAO: ...

YAO: just do me a favor and tell me what we should avoid.

He shakes his head. Over the couple years, you learned that it either means 'no' or 'we're completely assfuck screwed'. In this case, 'we're completely assfuck screwed'.

YAO: there's no way we're completely screwed.

He looks at you, in such a way that expresses the resignation in his eyes. He hasn't slept for a few days, seeming almost buried in his dark green God Tier robes.

It occurs to you that he looks like a corpse.

YAO: look at me.

YAO: look at me straight in the eye and tell me we're fucking screwed.

The purple of his eyes are dull and bloodshot, holding eye contact as he shakes his head. You sigh.

YAO: you should get your ass outside. i'm not a doctor but i'm pretty sure this is pretty unhealthy.

IVAN: Hell no

YAO: let's go memelord.

IVAN: Nope

YAO: come on.

IVAN: Im spending my last days in solitary confinement thank you very much

YAO: nobody's dying, you asshat. arthur made scones and they actually taste pretty good, suprisingly.

It was mostly his boyfriend/ matesprit/ whatever that made them, but close enough really.

IVAN: No

You drag him by his collar, out the door and into the common room/ kitchen/ designated congregation area, Ivan muttering something about fraternal abuse the whole way. Ectosiblings, are you right?

Francis took up the couch on the other side of the room, Arthur sitting on his legs. Kat converses with Matthew at the table, where the large book, still bearing signs of the Penis Ouija Incident, lies. Ivan's kismessitude with Lovino was pretty stupid, now that you think about it, but it was also endlessly hilarious. A slight pity they broke it off after mutual acknowledgement of its stupidity.

⇒ Seer: Grudgingly comply

You suppose you can humor your ectosibling and everyone else for a while. Evidence of the POI still lies on the table, remains of a calignous relationship that was really gogdamn fucking stupid. You grab a scone with some sort of purple spread on it.

It actually tastes pretty good, leading to the conclusion that Arthur did not, or minimally helped in the process of making it. Though...

IVAN: This is grub sauce is it

FRANCIS: wéll

FRANCIS: it's high quality purplé grub sauçé from north altertalia

IVAN: So you guys are technically cannibals

FRANCIS: i supposé

IVAN: Interesting

Yao is nowhere to be seen. You assume more flushed shenanigans with Kiku. Leon and Emil are gone. You weren't that close with them, but something seems missing with two people out of the session.

But Alfred... Everything seems so morguelike. Without Space, there's no chance of a new universe. Without him, everything seems flat, without lines of sky blue text, or the glasses you loved to steal. He kept the group together. Without Space, there is only a Void, no longer any prospect of a new beginning. Without Alfred there would be no beginning, no ghostly flower crowns or midnight strifes. Without him the two of you would never be gods.

Your chest still feels empty, but you know he waits in the dream bubbles.

* * *

I hope that if you do feel dead right now, it's in an okay way. Reviews help keep the Hetastuckdom alive.


	2. Space

Part two, which was not originally intended but made to make me feel better

* * *

His death was Just.

Though he had good intentions, it was impossible for all of you, let alone himself, to defeat the enemy. He would have been a simple fly in their path, leading towards you and the rest of the team.

The Knight of Mind put him to death. Despite the fact that the two of you were ectosiblings, you never considered him family, and neither did him. It was the death of... A comrade, for lack of better terms. More familiar than an acquaintace but not friendly enough to be friends.

The Rogue of Life refused to bring him back. He was suffering, she said. It was best to send him off to the dream bubbles.

You take him to the makeshift tomb, where the bodies of other players rest. You lay him next to Alfred, his matesprit.

Your session is soon to become Void, despite everything you do. Time is measured out in death.

⇒ Be the Seer

For lack of better terms, you can say you pulled a Vriska. You planned on defeating the enemy, but the Hero of Mind killed you before you could, uh, execute the plan. You can't exactly say if it was a broken clock that decided a Just death, nor if there really was a Jack Noir around here with a vendetta against timepieces.

This isn't the time for bad jokes. You have a habit of cracking them, though people stopped laughing a long time ago.

You knew your plan wouldn't work out. At the end of it all, the group would die later, or fade into the code as Ancients, forever muttering a garbled language for sessions to come. The time between was to wait, some in fearful silence, others attempting to change their fate. You know they know it wouldn't work out in the end.

The dead have no such worries. In the dream bubbles, you live in your memories, combined with those of your fellow inhabitants. In the dream bubbles, you can finally rest.

You are returned to your New York apartment, the way it was that fateful day five years ago. The same poster of Putin riding a bear tacked on your wall, the same novelizations of Homestuck stacked on your dresser. You look out your window, and clamber down into what resembles the Land of Bones and Flowers.

You remember playing the game, after being pestered by Alfred. Accidentally running a code that actually did start up a plague in your land, tending to the dying masses of consorts. Eventually abandoning your land, to guide Alfred through his ascension. All if this you remember, but none is what you're looking for.

You walk down a winding ivory road that eventually fades into dark blue rock, under a night sky, his Land of Night and Eagles. Would you still see familiar planets if you looked out through a telescope?

Off in the distance is an alien forest, blue trunks and purple leaves, perhaps where one of the trolls lived.

None of this is what you're looking for.

You are looking for a boy who always messaged you in sky blue text, who brought you back the first time you died. You are looking for someone who loved Space as much as you did, and eventually took up that aspect.

Also, his ass looked great in his Page outfit, but you would never say that out loud unless you wanted a beatdown.

He loved Hetalia as much as you loved Homestuck, and though you were there to guide him, he was the one dragging you along the dark blue path. He wore those glasses you always loved to steal, much to his annoyance, and some days you would misplace your scarf only to find it wrapped around his neck.

You come to a crossroad, one leading to an Altertalian forest, the other an earthly landscape. Though you would love to meet a long dead acquaintance, you have a larger matter to deal with, on Earth.

You find him on the roof of his house, looking at the afternoon sky next to his beloved telescope. He waves you over, and you climb up to join him.

The clouds can't compare to the stars, but you are perfectly content lying on the rooftop next to Alfred.

⇒ Page: Live

This bubble is where the dead players of your, and the troll's sessions reside. When you suffered your Heroic death, you were greeted by the ghosts of Leon and Emil, of Feliciano and Gilbert and Ludwig, everyone who died and their alternate selves.

In the dream bubbles, they live an afterlife, freed from the responsibility of their session. But you were waiting for someone to enjoy it with.

He would often admonish you in his dark purple text, usually with a slightly ironic tone. He agreed to play because of your constant pleas, he left his land to guide you through yours. You brought him back the first time he died, he helped you ascend as a god.

He was like a gentle darkness, often seeking comfort from the dreams pertaining to his aspect. You never passed up the chance of cuddles.

You loved to wear his scarf, it was soft and smelled like him. He would often steal your glasses, causing you to bump around with your bad eyesight. When you would babble on about the planets, he would reply with the same enthusiasm. You left him when you died, where he grieved for days. Now he died a Just death and joined you in the dream bubble, staring at the clouds.

As the sky comes near to sunset, you drag him over to the neighboring alien forest, where a five sixths birthday celebration or something is going on. The other dead players usually hold meaningless parties, organized by Gilbert but arranged at his moirail Ludwig's hive, since he's a seadweller. They really are pointless, it's usually just Antonio and Gilbert playing the troll equivalent of beer pong, Lovino yelling at everything and Feli being nervous and communing with the meowbeasts.

But back to the point. You drag your beautiful Russian boyfriend over Ludwig's place, despite the fact that you really are tired of pointless parties. The prospect of showing Ivan life in the bubbles outweighs the stupidities of things, as you plan on staying here with him by your side.

* * *

Reviews help keep everyone in the dream bubbles safe and happy


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